


The Hanging Gardens of Babylon

by NotASpaceAlien



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ancient Times, Crawley, Gen, Historical, Short, Snake Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 09:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5159252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotASpaceAlien/pseuds/NotASpaceAlien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Aziraphale, it's easier to tell his nemesis he doesn't know anything than admit he is right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hanging Gardens of Babylon

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr at http://not-a-space-alien.tumblr.com/post/125905218325/prompt-the-hanging-gardens-of-babylon

Humans had come such a long way.  That’s all Aziraphale could think as he stood in this magnificent place, surrounded on all sides by lush greenery, pristine stone, gentle waterfalls, and people in elegant clothing whispering to each other as they passed him.

The gardens were as magnificent as everyone had said.  Well, not _everyone_.  Specifically, one someone had said, although Aziraphale loathed to admit when this particular _someone_ was right about anything.

This particular someone probably had very strong opinions on Gardens, all things considered.

“Built by the king for his queen,” said a voice from beside him, and Aziraphale turned to see a particular someone up in a nearby tree, looking much scalier and more narrow than he usually did.

“I haven’t seen you in that skin since…” Aziraphale began, trailing off.

Crowley’s head dangled from the branch like a vine.  “Call it nostalgia,” said Crowley.  He turned back towards the plants surrounding them.  He seemed to be smiling, but it was hard to tell in a body that was so ill-fit for such an expression.  “He built it for her because she missed it.  The greenery in her homeland.”

“An expression of love, then,” said Aziraphale.

“Not unlike the original Garden in that sense,” said Crowley.

“What would you know of _love?”_ snapped Aziraphale.

The two sat in silence, listening to the bubbling water.  Aziraphale was ashamed of his outburst, and could not identify why he had responded so viciously.

“Almonds,” said Crowley, nosing at the delicate pink-white flowers covering the branch he was hanging from.  He turned his head and looked behind Aziraphale.  “Grapes, olives, quince, figs, pears…”  The serpent’s head bobbed to point to each tree as he named them.

Aziraphale would not admit to himself that the serpent could know anything about love, but he certainly knew about plants.  



End file.
